Cicatrize
by Yami-Sajic
Summary: Forced to eternally wander the realm of shadows, Bakura discovers that the Millennium Items still remain intact, unknowingly possessed by Marik in the world of the living. Without Zorc, Bakura's spirit has weakened, and the Millennium Items are his only key to finally fulfill his vengeance toward the Pharaoh and those who stand in his way.
1. Chapter 1

_I am immortal_, Bakura thought to himself as he staggered through the endless shadows. _Even if it takes another three millennia, I will rise again._ The lost spirit snickered in the dark void that he had been wandering through since he had lost track of time. _As long as my vengeance remains unappeased, I will live to avenge my people and take back what is rightfully ours_. As if in response to his inner thoughts, a wandering spirit brushed against him, sending a chill across Bakura's skin. Another drifted by, channelling its sorrow and desire for redemption to Bakura.

The spirits were the souls of his people that had been slaughtered by the Pharaoh's will three thousand years ago, wandering between the barrier of the afterlife, their cries lamenting the dead and haunting the only survivor from Kul Elna—Bakura.

Bakura sensed a new presence and halted, waiting for a form to appear. As he expected, the spirit materialized in front of him, revealing a blue-eyed man garbed in a flowing Egyptian tunic. However, he had not expected the man to be the same one he had murdered so long ago.

"The wheel of fate is still turning. I assume your desire for vengeance has not quelled, Bakura."

Bakura remained silent under Shadi's distant gaze that seemed to see far past sentient life.

"There is still a chance to gain what you desire. The Millennium Items are still intact."

"What?" His words sparked an immediate interest in Bakura.

"As the guardian of the Millennium Items, I could not allow them to fall, even for the greater good. With the assistance of a physical body under my manipulation, the Millennium Items were saved. However, they are no longer in my possession."

"Who has them?"

For a minute, Shadi's intent gaze bore into Bakura, his eyes seeming to sift through the fragments of his very soul. Finally, he turned and began to walk away, silently beckoning Bakura to follow him. "Do you wish to know even though you may regret it later?"

The pale boy responded in a mute consent; the answer was clear. Bakura's stomach abruptly lurched as the atmospheres suddenly shifted, warping space and time together as the shadows entwined to create a dimly lit room. He blinked, his eyes adjusting to the familiar darkness of night as moonlight poured in from a nearby window. The light shone on a mirror, Bakura's phantasmal form nonexistent in the reflection as he brushed by it. Unlike his surroundings, his shadow did not form a silhouette, either.

Bakura froze as he heard breathing. His gaze wandered behind him, though nobody was there, not even Shadi. Following the gentle sound, Bakura was forced to pause every other step so he could hear the near-silent breathing. Not five steps later, he found the source.

A boy roughly around his age lay curled up on his bed, his chest slowly rising and falling as he slept. In the pale moonlight, his hair shone silver, though Bakura knew it was actually pale blonde. He stared at the boy who had led them to their near deaths, the tomb keeper that had betrayed him for the Pharaoh.

Memories threatened to boil over, the past threatening to rise to the surface. Averting his eyes, Bakura's eyes scanned the bare room, the vacancy creating a shroud of loneliness. Bakura had assumed he was in Egypt, however, looking out the window he discovered a familiar city as nightfall lingered over it. Thousands of lights twinkled and shone from various buildings and streetlights that lined the streets.

_What is he doing in Domino City? _Bakura wondered. The pale boy's eyes flickered to the blonde Egyptian as he recalled Shadi's words. Standing beside the edge of the bed near the peacefully sleeping form, Bakura said, "So you have the Millennium Items." He knew his words did not reach the boy, for they were in two alternate dimensions. "Marik," Bakura hissed the boy's name under his breath.

Bakura stared at the Egyptian boy where he slept, peacefully and oblivious to the presence of the pale boy. Sitting beside Marik, Bakura reached forward and brushed his fingers along the boy's forehead, sweeping his wispy bangs aside. For several moments, Bakura grazed Marik's hair with a gentle hand, searching his face with mahogany eyes as the tomb keeper slept. Leaning forward, Bakura craned his neck so they were face to face; a breath apart from each other. Bakura held his breath, waiting for the boy to rouse. He did not, however, as his chest slowly rose and fell beneath the pale hand that rested on it for balance.

Bakura leaned closer until their mouths were only parted by a mere breadth. He whispered to the unconscious boy, "I hate you, Marik. I hate you so much."


	2. Chapter 2

Marik woke with a dull throb lingering in his head and the grogginess that came with a restless sleep. A faint memory brushed the edge of his mind, but as he blinked in the dim lighting he forgot it entirely. It had felt like a remnant of a dream, though the silent needing of it to be remembered told Marik it was more. _Maybe I'll remember it later_, the tomb keeper thought, stretching his arms above his head and listening to the sharp cracks and pops his joints elicited as they released the tension of his rest.

Stifling a yawn, Marik swept a clean shirt off the floor from where he had discarded it the previous night and slipped it on. Picking through the contents of his luggage where it lay in a small pile on the floor, he grabbed a pair of black cargos and gently yanked them from the tangled mess. As he did, a photograph flew out to reveal three smiling faces against a desert sunset.

Marik kneeled down and picked up the photograph of Odion, Ishizu, and himself. With a light smile, he pulled on his cargos and slipped the picture of his family into his back pocket. He knew he could not miss them already—after all, it had been Marik's choice to return to Domino City. The tomb keeper shoved the pile of clothes and other such things he had packed aside, deciding he would sort through it later. Grabbing his apartment key, he locked the door behind him and headed toward the streets of Domino.

Marik breathed in the crisp scent of the gentle morning breeze as he walked down the sidewalk with no destination in mind. Various shops and cafes lined the block, though none particularly perked his interest, so he carried on. At the crosswalk, he blinked tiredly at the flashing traffic lights as vehicles zipped by, subconsciously wondering why he was so tired. During a break between traffic, Marik caught a flash of long pale hair and immediately a jolt of recognition shot through him. His heart skipped a beat as his mind threatened to bring up memories of Battle City, though he quickly submerged his thoughts and instead focused on the crosswalk lights as they flickered to allow pedestrians to cross.

The Egyptian struggled to maintain a regular pace as he watched the white hair disappear in the flood of a sudden crowd. Hurrying slightly, Marik weaved his way around the crowd of businessmen and women and searched ahead for the pale-haired boy. _It can't be him... _He convinced himself, sure that his sight must have mistaken him. Yet at the same time, hope hung high in his chest as his heart pounded against his ribcage. Then, Marik caught a glimpse of the albino boy just as he rounded the next corner.

The tomb keeper hurried along the block, his stroll increasing to a fast-paced walk. He rounded the corner and caught up to the white-haired boy quickly, his hand reaching out to fall on the boy's shoulder. The pale boy turned and stared at Marik, clearly startled by the sudden contact. Marik went silent for a moment as brown eyes gazed back at him before he dropped his arm and sighed with relief. "Bakura."

A pause before the boy replied, "Marik? What are you doing here?"

The unfamiliar gentle voice caught the blonde off guard before he realized he was not speaking to the Bakura he knew—the spirit of the Millennium Ring. Then, as he looked closer, he noticed that the boy's eyes were too kind and brown to be Bakura's chilling maroon, and the slight smile that he held was one of kindness, not smugness or self-satisfaction.

"Oh. Ryou." His eyes widened in apology as he realized his disappointment had leaked through to his words. "Sorry, I thought you were Bakura."

Ryou's smile fell for a moment at the spirit's name before he collected himself and welcomed Marik to walk along with him on the sidewalk in polite response to the irritated glares they were earning from the pedestrians that wove their way around them. "He hasn't returned since Yugi and the others visited the Tablet of Lost Memories in Egypt."

Marik commented with a raised brow, "I thought you were there, too."

"I guess I was, but I don't remember much at all. Something was chasing me... and then I woke up with no recollection of what had happened." Ryou smiled lightly. "But it's okay now. The Pharaoh—Atem—later told me that the evil in the Millennium Ring had vanished." He paused and seemed to be deep in thought for a moment before concluding with, "I never really knew what he was. The Millennium Ring's spirit, I mean."

Marik watched Ryou's usual cheerful face fall solemn as he was lost in thought. _The evil vanished? Does that mean...? _He shook away the thought. "Do you know where Yugi lives? I want to speak with him," Marik said.

Ryou's eyes widened before he nodded and smiled. "Sure. I was just going to his place now, actually."

Following Ryou, they eventually made it to a quaint game shop with a sign advertising Duel Monsters cards. Marik asked, "Yugi lives here?"

"Um, yes. His grandfather owns this game shop." Ryou knocked on the door and seconds later a familiar teenage boy appeared in the doorway. Yugi smiled at Ryou, though before he could welcome him inside, the boy's amethyst eyes flickered behind him to gaze at the blonde Egyptian in surprise. Marik shifted uncomfortably under Yugi's stare, suddenly worried that he was intruding.

"Marik? What are you doing here?"

Yugi's tone was kind, though his words held a surprised edge to them. Marik replied, "I'm still figuring that out myself."

Yugi's watchful gaze switched from Marik to Ryou before he stepped inside the shop, welcoming the two boys in. Ryou seemed slightly fascinated by the display of toys, games, and other such merchandise that lined the walls and counters, though the affect did not compel Marik as he strode by and climbed the stairs, following Yugi. He watched in silence as Yugi chatted with Ryou as the three sat cross-legged on the floor in his bedroom.

"So, Marik, how are Ishizu and Odion?"

The question caught Marik by surprise, though he smiled and answered, "They're fine." Before further inquiry could be made, the tomb keeper abruptly said, "Actually, there's something I want to ask you. It's why I came here." Ryou and Yugi both looked at Marik intently. "I was wondering... What happened to Bakura?"

"Bakura?" Yugi opened his mouth to say something before he changed his mind and glanced away, meeting Ryou's eyes for a moment in between. "Oh. You mean _him_."

The edge in Yugi's voice nearly startled Marik. "Yes, the spirit of the Millennium Ring. I saw the Millennium Items fall deep into the darkness below earth, but I want to know what happened before."

Yugi met Marik's eyes before he told him of the events that occurred in the shrine that held the Tablet of Lost Memories. Ryou and Marik listened as he described their trial that involved journeying back in time to ancient Egypt, when the Pharaoh, Atem, had reigned. Yugi explained that Bakura held a Shadow Game in present time in order for a chance to resurrect the very form of evil itself, Zorc. Bakura had taken control of his former self—the Thief King—in order to take revenge on Atem for his father's unknowing mistake. His father's brother had created the Millennium Items by slaughtering the Thief King's village, sacrificing ninety-nine villagers and melting the bodies down to infuse them with a dark spell, thus making the Items as well as bringing a dark entity upon them.

Zorc Necrophades.

The Thief King had fused himself with the demon that was born from his hatred inside the Millennium Ring, causing his hate-driven mind to become tainted and his conscience to learn no bounds. Bakura had successfully revived Zorc using the Millennium Items, wreaking havoc across the land and killing many. Blood had showered the land; nothing could stop the demon known as Zorc.

Yugi seemed to perk a little as he concluded his story by explaining that by revealing the Pharaoh's name as Atem, The Creator God of Light, Horakhty, defeated Zorc and saved the land from falling into the hands of destruction.

Marik's head spun as he took in all the information. If what Yugi had said was true—that Bakura had sealed himself with Zorc inside the Millennium Ring—then that meant Zorc's death was also Bakura's own. The tomb keeper's eyes were wide as he stared at the floor, disbelief fogging his vision. _So much loss... And for what? Power? Vengeance? _Marik closed his eyes, aware of the others' stares on him. _Bakura, you fool._

Yugi seemed to sense the distress in the room and suggested, "It's a nice day outside—let's go to the park."

Ryou and Marik nodded in agreement. As Marik stood, he caught Yugi's eye. Something flashed across his expression before he covered up with a smile, but Marik understood. Yugi must have been confused as to why Marik would want to know what happened to Bakura, and better yet why he was not relieved with his disappearance. _Disappearance, _Marik repeated in his head, unable to accept that Bakura was dead. Not yet.

As the three reached the end of the street, Marik suddenly felt an urge to tend to something he had forgotten. He had no idea what, though the feeling to leave only increased as he walked along the sidewalk. Apologizing to both Ryou and Yugi for his abrupt departure, he left and made his way toward his apartment. The shabby building was satisfactory for the barest of needs, though nothing more. There were cobwebs lingering in the corners and even during the sunniest of days the interior seemed dank and the lighting dim.

The same feeling from earlier tugged at him as he scrambled for the keys in his pocket. It was as if his mind was on the verge of recollecting something important. Unlocking his door, Marik entered the cramped apartment. He stood for a moment, listening to the quiet creaks and other such noises the floorboards and pipes made, before making his way to the bedroom with his heap of belongings. At first, all seemed normal. Then something seemed to lure the tomb keeper closer until he found himself sifting through the pile of belongings. As he threw a sweatshirt aside, something bright casted a golden glow from underneath the rest of the fabric.

Marik rummaged through, grabbing a relatively small duffel bag that he did not remember bringing. The golden-hued glow seeped through the material, casting shadows across the floor. Hesitantly, Marik unzipped the bag and peered at its contents in utter disbelief, followed by horror. Dropping the duffel with a sharp clatter, the blonde Egyptian stood and backed away. His ragged breath was the only sound in the room, his heart pounding against his ribcage the only thing he could feel. Seven golden eyes stared back at Marik, their lifeless gaze penetrating deep into his soul, sending a shiver down the tomb keeper's spine.

_The Millennium Items... They're supposed to be lost. How are they in my possession?_

A knock at his door startled him, though Marik stood still without answering it. _I have to hide these_, he thought. Marik quickly zipped the duffel bag back up and buried it beneath the rest of his belongings. Shoving the pile aside, he hurried to the door, greeting a familiar pale-haired boy.

"Ryou? What are you doing here?" Marik said, reluctantly letting him in.

Ryou's eyes darted around for a moment before he answered, "I was worried since you left so early. Yugi wanted to come, too, but his grandfather needed him this afternoon." Ryou suddenly winced before he added, "Is everything okay?"

Locking the door, the tomb keeper replied, "I'm... fine." His lie was so obvious that Ryou turned around to face him, his intent stare resting on the blonde Egyptian. "Tea?" Marik offered, pointing to a kettle.

Ryou shook his head, politely answering with a smile, "No, thank you."

Silence hovered in the atmosphere for several moments, stretching the tension between the two near strangers. Marik strode ahead, welcoming Ryou further in to his apartment with the slightest of gestures. "I'm still unpacking, so just disregard the bareness around here." Ryou did not seem to mind the vacancy, though his searching eyes worried Marik. _Is he looking for something? _Marik was tempted to ask, though he managed to keep to himself.

Ryou must have sensed Marik's wary stare, for he spun to meet the tomb keeper with a sheepish expression and a sudden cringe. "Sorry, I don't mean to be rude, it's just..." he paused, averting his eyes downward. "I'm sorry. Never mind."

"No, please. Tell me," Marik said.

Ryou glanced up at Marik before wincing again, his steps faltering as he slowly moved away. "I should go."

Marik stepped forward, realizing that Ryou was really in pain. "Are you okay?"

Before he could respond, Ryou suddenly collapsed to one knee, his hands clutching either side of his head as he grimaced against some unfathomable force.

"Ryou!" Marik exclaimed in alarm. He rushed forward, dropping to a crouch as he rested his hand on the boy's slender arm. "Do you want me to call—"

A hand lashed out and connected with Marik's jaw, sending him sprawling backward to the floor. Before the tomb keeper could react, the same hand grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and yanked him forward until he was staring at mahogany eyes. Marik's mouth went agape as he stared at the newly familiar pale boy. "Bakura," Marik gasped in simulation with his thoughts.

Bakura's scowl contorted into a wicked grin as he leaned forward, forcing the tomb keeper to draw back on his elbows. His eyes were violent and ablaze with a fresh kindling of blood smoldering in their depths; a stark contrast to surrounding pale white skin.

Bringing his face close to Marik's, Bakura murmured, "You're mine."


	3. Chapter 3

Bakura stared down at Marik, the boy's lavender eyes wide in astonishment. The tomb keeper trembled slightly beneath the dominant pale boy, Bakura's hand clenching the collar of his shirt. "Now, be obedient and tell me where it is and I won't be forced to do anything unnecessary," Bakura growled.

Marik swallowed, collecting himself as his expression contorted into an icy stare that reflected Bakura's own. "Where _what _is?"

"Don't be naive. I can sense the presence of the Millennium Ring, and I can tell you have it. Now tell me where it is."

Marik stiffened momentarily before his features softened. "I don't know what you're talking about," he replied coolly.

Bakura's wicked grin faltered as well, until his mouth contorted into a scowl and his grasp around Marik's collar relented. The Millennium Ring's nearby presence sent a pulse to Bakura's skull, his heart painfully skipping a beat as he struggled for control over his host's body. Ignoring the insistent throb of his head and the sharp twinges of pain in his chest, Bakura stood abruptly and examined the apartment with searching eyes before crossing the floor. His eyes fell on Marik as he suddenly appeared on his feet before him, the tomb keeper's own violet eyes boring into the pale boy as he stood in his way.

As Marik opened his mouth to protest, Bakura interrupted him by snapping, "Give me what I want and I won't have a reason to kill you at this very moment."

Marik held his ground. "Kill me then. I dare you."

A smile threatened to upturn the corner of Bakura's mouth as he fought the urge to snicker at the boy's stubbornness. "Just get out of my way."

The tomb keeper's body went rigid before he sighed, reluctantly dropping his arms to his sides. Before Bakura could brush by him, Marik turned on his heel and disappeared into his bedroom. A few moments later, Marik appeared holding the Millennium Ring as it glowed in his hand, the illuminating golden hue hypnotizing as Bakura fought the urge to snatch it out of the boy's grasp.

Bakura snickered, crossing his arms and arching a brow. "Why the sudden change in heart, Marik?"

"Maybe you've forgotten, but we were once allies," Marik sneered, though his voice contained a hint of melancholy.

"We were, until you sided with the _Pharaoh_. Our rightful enemy, of all people," Bakura hissed back.

"It was my role as tomb keeper. I had to!" The blonde snapped, his face blushing angrily. "Besides, I..." Marik trailed off, averting his eyes as he clutched the Millennium Ring in both hands.

"You what?" Bakura urged, his impatience growing as he eyed the Millennium Ring an arm's length away, resisting it with effort from snatching it out of the tomb keeper's hands.

"I thought you were dead."

Marik's words sent a shivering jolt down Bakura's spine as his mahogany eyes flickered upward to meet the Egyptian's own violet. Marik glanced away first, his eyes narrowing as he thrust the Millennium Ring outward to Bakura, the five golden needles chiming with the abrupt movement.

Bakura froze as he silently contemplated Marik's words. _Was he actually concerned by my supposed death?_ The pale boy mentally shook off the thought with a scowl and seized the offered Millennium Item. "You're a fool to think so low of me," Bakura retorted.

Marik's eyes flashed as his stare switched to Bakura. "What did you expect? You lost to my darker self and forfeited your soul. Afterward, I never saw you again." The tomb keeper clenched and unclenched his hands, his knuckled eliciting popping noises. "Until now."

Bakura smirked. "We."

"What?"

"_We_ lost the duel. But not all of my soul was lost, because, unlike you, I thought ahead of time." Bakura looped the Millennium Ring around his neck, comforted by the familiar metal object as it lay flat against his midriff. "Using the Millennium Puzzle, I found my memories again."

"Only to be destroyed by the Pharaoh."

Marik's knowledge startled Bakura; his surprise did not go unnoticed. The tomb keeper seemed to enjoy his astonishment and continued smugly, "I know all about how you sealed yourself with a demon—Zorc—and sought to destroy the Pharaoh and his people. You even held a Shadow Game during present time in order to correct your first miserable failure. You just don't give up, do y—"

Bakura suddenly lunged forward, his hand locked around the blonde Egyptian's throat as he collided with the wall behind him. Anger bubbled up inside Bakura; anger that he had long forgotten. Calm violet eyes met his own coolly, only infuriating Bakura furthermore as his hand clenched tighter around Marik's throat. "I really question whose side you're on. Yugi told you about my past, didn't he? Did he tell you why I became a bloodthirsty demon?"

"Your village was sacrificed to create the Millennium Items," Marik rasped, his steady glare unwavering. "So you sealed yourself with a demon to gain more power in order to seek vengeance."

Bakura shoved Marik against the wall once before releasing his clasp around his throat, allowing the tomb keeper to gasp in air as he collapsed to his knees. Glowering down at Marik, Bakura hissed, "I beheld the gruesome deaths of ninety-nine people who I had known my entire life, each body being boiled alive until they choked on their screams." Bakura kneeled down until he was eyelevel with Marik before concluding, "To answer your question; no, I will not give up. So you'd better not get in my way"

Bakura stood and turned on his heel, treading across the floor of Marik's apartment until he reached the door. Resting his hand on the handle for a moment too long, Bakura breezed through the doorway in a brisk pace, allowing the door to slam behind him in his simmering anger.

He paused for a brief moment, taking a deep breath and revelling in the crisp air as it filled his lungs, exhaling slowly as he felt a fraction of his anger depart. Across the hallway, an elderly man was bent down scrambling for his keys that he had dropped. Bakura sniffed and made his way down the stairs silently, for he did not want to draw any attention toward himself. Slipping the Millennium Ring down the front of his shirt so it lay hidden against his bare skin, Bakura made his way to the open streets that were lined with people as they hurried along like bees in a colony.

Bakura was glad that he had finally been given the chance to escape the endless shadows that he had been sentenced to forever, though upon already meeting one of the last people he had expected—and desired—to meet, in addition to suffering the harsh sunlight that casted down on the street, he suddenly longed for the darkness that had enveloped him both day and night. Glancing up at the sky, the pale boy noticed dark clouds rolling in from the east and allowed himself a hint of delight at the coincidence. _Even in this world the darkness subjugates the light. _

Flipping up the collar of his shirt, Bakura suppressed a smirk as he made his way down the street, brushing by countless pedestrians along his way. Minutes later, as the sun was beginning to set, the pale boy felt a raindrop on his arm and glanced upward to take note of the potential storm clouds that threatened to swallow the sky. A sudden breeze sank its teeth into Bakura's exposed skin, causing a shiver to run down his spine as he continued down the street, shoving the thought of a certain tomb keeper out of his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

Marik lay staring at ceiling, his mind alert as thoughts buzzed and images whirred in his head. He knew sleep would not come easily, so he let his mind wander. Several minutes passed before his muscles relaxed and sleep tugged at his consciousness, his head beginning to feel foggy as he welcomed the rest.

_I hate you, Marik. I hate you so much._

The words echoed familiarly as Marik bolted upright, eyes wide as he recalled the silent nagging he had felt earlier. Simultaneously, a crack of thunder erupted throughout the sky, the following lightning illuminating the room as the rain pattered against the window. Resting his face in his hands, he swept his fingers through his fringe before making up his mind and swiftly clambered off the bed. Pausing before the duffel where he had hidden the Millennium Items, Marik barely had time to think before he rummaged through and slid the Millennium Rod through his rear belt loop. The metal object deemed familiar, yet it brought back a flood of unwanted memories. Slipping on a windbreaker, Marik crept down the hallway, past the various resident areas, until he reached the stairs and made his way out of the apartment.

Rain assaulted the streets, the sky black as charcoal with only occasional streak of lightning to break through the endless night. By the time Marik reached the end of the block, his clothes hung on him heavily and rain trailed down his face from his hair. The tomb keeper had no idea where he was going exactly; all he knew was that he wanted to confront Bakura before the boy did anything reckless.

_What am I thinking? He's always going to be doing something reckless_, Marik thought, reminding himself of past events of Bakura's rash behaviour. Passing by an alleyway, Marik hesitated when he thought he heard something, listened for a moment, and continued on when only the sound of rain on the ground could be heard. The streets suddenly seemed to be void of any traffic—no more people hiding underneath umbrellas or cars zipping by and splashing water from the curb. Marik halted, wiping rain from his eyes as he gazed ahead at the nothingness that awaited him.

_What am I even looking for? Bakura could be anywhere..._

Suddenly, a hand clamped around his mouth and he felt himself being shoved into a sturdily built body. Something sharp dug into his side below his ribs, drawing blood. "Come with me," a voice growled near his ear.

Marik had no choice but to oblige as he felt himself being dragged away by the man, the sharp object still jabbing into his side. He heard at least two sets of footsteps behind him as he was pulled into an alley; the same alley he had reluctantly passed before. Marik was shoved to the ground as soon as he hit the darkness of the passage, four bodies looming over him, blocking any means of an exit.

"Search him. Take anything of value," the evident leader ordered. Three shadows crept toward Marik as he struggled to his feet. As soon as he stood, a fist connected with his cheek and made him stumble backward before a kick sent him sprawling to the flooded concrete ground. Rendered momentarily dazed as his vision danced before the shimmering rain as it pounded down on the concrete, Marik struggled blindingly against the three thieves that attempted to grab hold of him. Another fist connected with his abdomen and he gasped, his breath choking halfway through his throat as he doubled over; two of the thugs then proceeding to link their arms around the tomb keeper's own. The third thief searched Marik's pockets, only to find each one empty. After another quick rummage to be sure, the tomb keeper was shoved backward into a pile of boxes and stumbled to the ground as the thieves' leader approached.

The man scowled beneath a low hood that left most of his face in shadows. "No money? Fine then pretty boy," he said, taking a cigarette from a pack that he slipped from his pocket and lighting it. After a short drag he concluded, "Strip the pretty boy of that golden jewellery. I bet it'll be worth something."

Marik squinted in the hazy shadows as his vision doubled and his fingers twitched upon the cold pavement. He feared he would not be able to hold on much longer, which only made him angry. Quietly searching among the mess of damp cardboard boxes with his hand behind his back, his fingers landed on a smooth, glass object. Before he could think, Marik grabbed it and swung it at one of the men where it collided with the side of his head. The object turned out to be an empty whisky bottle, and it smashed against impact; little shards danced upon the ground.

The others seethed at the sight of their fallen member, where he lay unconscious on the ground.

"Break him!" The leader shouted over the rainstorm, although a laugh slipped from his mouth before he could entirely finish his sentence. "Grab his arms and break them!"

Even in his dazed state, Marik knew it was not a simple threat—mere broken arms would not be the final result. He attempted to scramble to his feet, but he only fell down once again like a bar of soap in the bottom of a sink. Desperate, Marik's hands searched frantically for some sort of object to act as a weapon, but he only felt soaked cardboard and the cold cement beneath it.

Before he could react, one of the thugs twisted Marik's arm around and threatened it with the pressure of his weight. Clenching his teeth, Marik lashed out with his other arm, only to cease before any contact could be made.

The leader of the thieves had drawn his switchblade, which he let linger at Marik's side. Although Marik could not feel anything, he knew he had really been stabbed this time from the metallic smell that flooded the air. A moment later he could see the dark stream that trickled onto the alley's ground, where it mixed into the rain like watercolour paint.

Marik heard the leader murmur in his ear, "That'll put an end to your struggling, pretty boy." He paused to take another drag of his cigarette before giving a slight laugh. "You know, we have debts to pay, too. What happened tonight happened for a reason, kid. You just happened to be passing by in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Rising to his feet, he gestured for his members to follow him further down the alley. The man pinning Marik's arm reluctantly released him before catching up with the others, leaving Marik alone in the dark alley.

His eyes drifted toward the ground, where rain angrily assaulted the shallow pool of blood that had formed. _I'll be fine_, Marik thought to himself with a smile. The wound really did not seem very deep, since the leader who had knifed him hardly did more than break his skin. Marik was unsure if it was a sign of weakness, or mercy.

Marik struggled to climb to his feet, but like before to no avail. Gripping his side where more blood threatened to spill, he eventually leaned his head against the brick wall behind him and closed his eyes. Marik nearly laughed, remembering earlier that he had thought Bakura would be doing something reckless, yet here he lay with his hand soaked in his own blood as he tried to think atop a heap of cardboard amid the pelting rain. But his thoughts quickly slipped away, and he was left with nothing in the moments that followed.


End file.
